Apparently bathroom graffiti is not restricted to people like you and me... when I say you and me, I mean mostly me. Haven't we spoken about some of my descendants scribbling on walls before?
Apparently this love of free artistic expression extended to people like George Gordon Byron, the 6th Baron Byron, better known simply as Lord Byron.
Now Byron, has to his credit some wonderfully lyrical poems, such as "She walks in Beauty", one of my favorite poems. That is until ,I watched an episode of the always hilarious QI. Which quoted Byron's writing on a lavatory wall.
For a good stool O Cloacina, Goddess of this place, Look on thy suppliants with a smiling face. Soft, yet cohesive let their offerings flow, Not rashly swift nor insolently slow. Source
Back in the early part of the 20th century, they found these caves in Spain (kindly refer to previous posts about weather patterns therein), which had all kinds of paintings in them, no not gang tags...or well they could have been. You see, the graffiti on the walls of said caves in Peunte Viesgo in Spain, was quite ancient.
These ancient vandals, my descendants, left quite a mark on many caves, proving the point to certain Fox "news" anchors that Western Europe has indeed been in the grip of Marxism ..like forever. To be Franco frank, that part of the world has indeed had issues with communism. Tearing ourselves away, from current day miscreants, to those no good descendants of mine.
Apart from drawings, these idiot miscreants, left hand prints all over the walls, and thereby perhaps fingerprints? It was time to call in the forensic specialists from CSI (no, not the church), who will then run the CC TV footage and enhance and rewind and do fancy camera tricks, until they can look back into the stone age. Remember my fellow Indians, for every door broken by Daya in CID, there is an ENHANCE done in CSI. While Daya can only break doors, these chaps with the A/V equipment can do so much more, they can take a grainy, low resolution black and white capture from a security camera from across the interstate. Said video is then enhanced to such a degree (MA.Gender Studies) that they can identify the killer, who is actually in a store 100 feet behind the camera. They simply "ENHANCED" the video to such an extent, that they could see the reflection of said perpetrator in one of the many compound eyes of a mosquito on the other side of the interstate. So from this kind of careful analysis, it was concluded that the perps of this graffiti could actually be Neanderthals (Homo neanderthalensis). (actual story here). As is usual in these matters there is some disagreement, hell they can not even agree on giving the Neanderthals a name (see footnote *). I think Steve would do nicely. Some other researchers believe that it was indeed not H. neanderthalensis, but their distant relatives, and out forefathers Homo sapiens. Everyone has forefathers...I just knew one.
Neanderthals or sapiens, whoever was responsible, one thing is very clear and this is the main point. Homos were involved in interior decorating even 40,000 years ago.
Speaking of the "end", here is the title.
"How to piss gay people off"
*NB: There exists some difference in literature as to the correct nomenclature for the Neanderthals. Commonly used are Homo neanderthalensis, Homo sapiens neanderthalensis, or Vasant dhoble. I profusely apologize to the Neanderthals for that cheap joke.
NB2: It is also surprising, apparently because Neanderthals, have not been known to paint the town, red or any other colour.
They were good boys, who ate curd rice and went to sleep early, They would also go with their mothers to the temples and fast on ekadashi.
I was reading a wikipedia page about this chap called Kaka Joginder Singh. He was awesome in a strange way- I quote from his wikipedia page "
Kaka Joginder Singh (1918 in Gujranwala - December 23, 1998 in Bareilly) (alias Dharti Pakad meaning "one who clings to the ground") was a textile owner who contested and lost over 300 elections in India".
Then something struck me, no, not a bored reader who was tired with all the crap I usually dish out. What struck me was as follows. I own and occasionally wear shirts and trousers and related items, hence, am I not a textile owner too? Me and I guess most of the world except perhaps the Sentinelese tribals or old Digambara monks. Did you miss the Digambara and read that as "Old Monk"? On a completely unrelated note ; does anyone else remember this show on Doordarshan from the late 80s- perhaps 1989 (CE. not BC.I am not that old, yet). ? It was about some kids that were stuck in the world of vegetables. The king of this healthy land was the Baingan Raja. How many of my fellow Hyderabadis suppressed a snicker there..or a 5 star, if you so prefer?. I digress, Baingan Raja ( and not Baigun ka raja) had a standing army, I wonder if mid management in the veggie army was by Corn...you see it already has the Colonels.
Speaking of food, many non-desi people I meet here, especially Americans bring up food, for them, their only contact with Indian "culture" are Indian movies and food. Let us take food for instance,and they try to bond speaking of a chicken tikka masala they ate at the Indian restaurant nearby- which totally sucks fyi. Food is so much a part of cultural identity. What we eat, defines us in so many ways. Even what we do not eat tells you a lot . I have often wondered how food "back in the day" would have tasted. So many of the ingredients we take for granted in Indian cuisine today are not native to our land. Tamarind, for instance, ironically called Tamarindus indica; is native to Africa. Potatoes and Chillies are native to South America, as is corn. Tomatoes are an other South American export. I can't imagine how Indian food would taste without these. No tomato in rasam, rajma or in butter chicken would not be fun. I cannot imagine Andhra food without chilies.Of course with so many different people from all kinds of places visiting various regions there is another factor in culinary evolution. Once I am done with grad school, I think I should start reading more about this. For now however, I throw myself back into work.
Unless you live under a rock, or are not Indian, it will not come as a huge shock to learn that a lot of music in the Indian film industries is "inspired" from external, or even internal sources. One expects it from the usual suspects, the Anu Maliks the Bappi das and so on. One of my favorite songs from bachpan, you know back in the paleolithic era was Mehbooba Mehbooba from Sholay, it had nothing to do with Helen's "boobas"(Maha or otherwise) I assure you, we did not have TVs back then,well I never had a TV at any rate (3% APR) Just in case you don't remember the song, here you go, from the good pirates folks on youtube. We have
I was unpleasantly surprised when I came across this.
sound familiar. Pancham da, how could you...from some chap named Demis Roussos. Sounds like some chick named Demi Rousso went to the same numerologist as Karan Johar or Suneil Shetty..Numerologist or whatever you call what do you call those chaps you visit (by you, I don't of course mean you specifically dear reader), then said frauds err honest gentlemen (don't sue me please I am broke) say change your spelling from Sunil Shetty to Zudatgdfndso Sdashadsedghtjjtsay. (pronounced Sunil Shetty) for good luck.
So let us look into this song...ooh but wait, what is this coming over the horizon, could it be the 9th Cavalry charging in, to the rescue and all, or even Delhi Police?
Not it is not just Panchamda, in the immortal words of this elderly gentleman (Hyderabadis read as Chichcha) I once encountered "Yahan pe sob choraan hain".
Lucy sent me a kindle this week. So much fun. I already have an e-book reader which is extremely temperamental, so this is a welcome gift. My first purchase, was of course, P.G.Wodehouse. This collection, has some of his less famous school stories. Also, I realized how many free ebooks there are on Amazon. I found three books of Harry Graham's poems. I leave you with a couple of my old time favorites from him.
Opportunity When Mrs Gorm (Aunt Eloise) was stung to death by savage bees Her husband (Pebendary Gorm) put on his veil, and took the swarm He's publishing a book next May on 'How to make bee-keeping pay'
Tender-heartedness Billy, in one of his nice new sashes, Fell in the fire and was burned to ashes; Now, although the room grows chilly, I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy.
I came across a little post on facebook the other day, where some one was talking about writing a memoir about their days in graduate school.
I wish I could write. I really do. I can't express myself well enough to convey the soul shattering and paralyzing loneliness, frustration, depression and not to mention sheer madness of grad school. It is a tragedy though, I used to enjoy it when I started out. I loved the challenge, I loved having to figure out stuff for myself. Little did I know that stuff I had to figure out for myself would be funding. I found it extremely difficult to try to figure out a totally new method of extraction and analysis with no guidance, all the while wondering how I'd manage to find money to eat the following semester. I realized, it is not possible to work at your best if you do not know literally where your next paycheque is coming from. I spent a few months agonizing over what I should do next. Then one day I was sitting in my car, drinking a medium coffee (with milk and sugar) from Dunkin Donuts and smoking a cigarette while staring across a fallow field. When suddenly I just said to myself "Fuck this! I can't do this anymore", and that was that. The day I decided to quit my PhD. was brilliant. To use a cliche "it felt as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders"..ok, just for you gentle reader I will come up with something completely different. you know when you drink a lot of beer and go on a road trip and are dying to piss really badly (read level: Tycho Brahe*) . In the worst possible way, you are forced to hold on because the next exit/ pit stop is like 20 miles away. Then when you finally get to the pit stop you see Mahesh Babu (back story) and then you go to the loo, you know how that feels? This was exactly like that, only mentally and no one was in danger of wetting themselves..only of committing homicide.
*It was long thought that Brahe died because he was at a banquet and needed to pee really badly and could not get up as that would have been bad etiquette therefore developed complications and died. Recent studies however indicate that he may have died of mercury poisoning.
You know what irritates me. These forensic shows on TV. I mean. I love watching them, don't get me wrong. I mean I even have 3 seasons of Bones on DVD. Of course not, I am joking, I may have torrents but. Anyhow the thing that bugs me the most is this . Investigators find unknown substance stuck to victims nose hair. 3 hours later techs have carried out "analysis" on the "GC-MS" and will tell you all kinds of things about this previously unknown substance such as its name, billing address, mother's maiden name and social security number.
As someone who has had many sleepless nights developing a method for analysis using a GC-MS. It makes me want to curl up in a fetal position and cry. Here is a small note to those who write these shows.
Do you even know how difficult it is to develop new methods of analysis for known compounds let alone unknown compounds. You could take 6 months varying all kinds of parameters to get the extraction, derivatization , GC-MS operating settings and all that just perfect, and you still will fuck up. There was this funny, charming and handsome researcher who was trying to develop a method to analyze an equally charming substance., who worked for six months on getting this right. He was getting decent recovery for samples of concentration 100 ng/L to 500 ng/L anything above and below..sorry not happening. And note, yes ng nano gram not fucking mg. Plus very rarely will you find the same chappie in a lab coat that will carry out this analysis, be able to tell you that the maggots you found in the victim's rectum masturbated thrice daily after feeding on flesh(the maggots- not the chap in the straitjacket labcoat) and solve that unfinished theorem left on the murdered physicist's black board and hack into the NSA database all while juggling spent shell casings while bonking the hot waitress from the diner while playing MMORPGs . Scientists aren't supermen. Even if some of us think we are, and wear our underpants over our trousers. We can't do everything. Most of us can barely understand stuff that is out side our fields of specialization. What this does is make people ask us, "Hey! I found this packet of white powder in my house, can you put it in your 'GC-MS' and tell me what it is?". This causes us to have responses like "let me tell you what you can do with this powder, try dissolving it in some alcohol, if it dissolves, inject it into your veins. If you get high...proceed as normal. If you die, my problem is solved". I don't like orange jumpsuits very much.
Right, those of you who know me offline know that I have been the victim of a receding hairline for quite sometime now. Now with economic times (or even mint) being as they are, the "recession" has only worsened. I decided to drastically change my hairstyle
I've had it cut very close and have grown my beard. You know the law of conservation of hair: hair can neither be created nor destroyed, It just moves from your head to all over the rest of your body - anyhow not being a blog dedicated to the whys and wherefores of personal grooming let me proceed to the matter at hand.
So yes the look I was aiming for is the excellent Bob Christo look. For those of you who do not know who the esteemed Mr Christo is, please jump in a dry well err no gentle reader please go now and pay homage to our new overlord..Google.
When the long suffering love of my life, Lucy, took a look at the pictures I uploaded immediately after the haircut.She snorted...no not drugs, get your mind out of the crack house- It was just a normal PG rated snort. Speaking of crack, I used to think, when I was a kid, that a crack whore was a prostitute who was extremely good at what she did, you know like a "crack regiment" or something....I wonder how many crack regiments are posted in Afghanistan - oh wait cocaine doesn't come from poppy. Perhaps from mommy then?
Would you call a person who only has butt sex for a financial consideration, a crack whore?
Well I guess it is true for filmi henchmen, just as in any other profession. First you start small. Like being a sidekick to a small time eve teaser that harasses the hero's sister, then you move up to larger things like harassing heroines, looking on with a Tharki look on your face as the thakur attempts to outrage the modesty of random village girl, and so on. Then after a process of reviews and appraisals, carried out after each successful heist, robbery, thuggery or rape, you slowly move up the ranks. Until you reach the gold standard of well..err gold smuggler in the Hindi films of the 1970s. You can then chose to diversify your portfolio to drugs, diamonds or even Eastern European dancers who do item numbers in Allu Arjun films. I do not know which is more dangerous to sanity. Of course you could lose it all(money, sanity and self respect) when go down that deadly spiral of importing cheaply made fakes from China - you know Nickey and Robuck shoes, Giovanni musk after shave lotion / battery acid, Kannan cameras, Kashi-o and Trollex watches all sold at the finest shacks in Burma Bazaar, Madras (or to be politically correct - Myanmar Market, Chennai)
Speaking of Mints.
Monday to Friday i steal my neighbor's copy of the Mint. On Saturdays i gloat and savour each issue in a weirdly creepy way. Don't judge me, all I wanted was to lootofy paanch mint ka mazaa.
1) They play bhangra pop music in strip clubs. 2) you can buy old monk rum, Haywards 5000 beer 3) YOu get pan pasand and Swad at the Indian store, speaking of Pan Pasand, I even saw Archana Joglekar in NJ. 4) Someone fills 'gas' for you. Unilke to the rest of the US (well except Oregon,I think) where you fill your own gas. Mostly desis.